


Fake Happy

by marelicarter (padmefuckingamidala)



Series: The Bath Water Series [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Blood, Depression, F/M, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Past Suicide Attempt, Psych Ward, Self Harm, Weight Issues, body image issues, past self harm, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2019-11-23 12:13:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padmefuckingamidala/pseuds/marelicarter
Summary: After your voluntary stay in a psychiatric ward for proper help, you find out it wasn't only you that's having nightmares about it.





	1. Chapter 1

Coming out of the psych ward was a feeling that left butterflies in your stomach and anticipation in your heart. It was like a prison in there--so many rules and so many dead faces staring back at you. No razors, no hair tools, no sheets until bedtime, no pens, no hair ties, no nothing. No shoe laces or drawstrings, either. On your first night they had stripped you, searched you for any items that could be used as a weapon, and given you a white t-shirt ad a pair of gray sweatpants without the drawstrings. A nurse with a clipboard bombarded you with questions. “Do you prefer morning showers or night showers?”

“Night.”

“Alcohol problems?”

“No.”

“Drug problems?”

“No.”

“Are you sexually active?”

“Yes.”

“Sexuality?”

“Uh, straight.”

“Last menstrual cycle?”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Four months ago.” You were so stressed you weren’t getting your period, but as soon as you said it, you could feel the awkwardness creeping into the conversation.”

“Pregnant?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you been feeling suicidal?”

“Uh, six months? Give or take?”

“Any past attempts?”

“No.”

“Any history of self harm?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Two years.”

She finished writing everything down, scribbling quickly, before flipping the page and giving you the rules.

You’d spent eight days in hell. And you loathed every minute of it. You were going insane watching the time tick by slowly, hours and minutes and seconds dragging on for what felt like weeks and years. People got visitors while they ate lunch, allowed to sit at one of the many padded chairs and tables to speak over their tray, but you were used to spending it alone. The foot made you want to cry, honest to God--even Bucky cooked better than that, and that was saying something. On the fourth day you wanted to cry as you ate, feeling too isolated and alone but the boys were at school and you wouldn’t let them skip class to see you. As you ate your sad sandwich that was a little too soggy, you saw a figure standing in your doorway. “Visitors,” the nurse said, before stepping aside and allowing them through.

Howard and Maria, followed by Jarvis, made their way through the doorway, barely making it through because you were so touch-starved. You lurched at them before you could stop yourself, hugging them close as tears pricked your eyes. “Sorry,” you apologized, voice thick with all the tears you held back. “I just really hate it here.”

“Don’t apologize,” Maria said, smoothing your hair back. She had a very motherly touch to her, and you appreciated it. Steve was very lucky to have her as another mother figure in his life, as well as Tony. “What’s wrong? Do we need to pull some strings? Because I’m not above name-dropping to get you some help.”

You appreciated that more than she would ever know. “I’m fine,” you told her honestly. “I just feel like a show pony. We’re monitored and treated like babies that no one actually cares about… and I feel so lonely here I want to tear out my hair.”

“We can have you transferred to a better facility,” Maria offered. “A private one. I think there’s one upstate.”

“I only have four more days,” you sighed. “I should be able to survive since you three came to visit.” A smile spreads on your face but you still feel fake, like you’re losing your mind and not doing as well as everyone thought. “How are the boys doing?”

Howard took a seat across from you, letting Maria sit in the seat beside you. “They’re doing okay,” he sighed. “Kind of on edge, but they know they need to be patient. They’re excited to come see you.”

“I can’t wait to get out of here and see them again,” you said. “Is Bucky being a helicopter boyfriend since I’m gone?”

Jarvis jumped in on that one. “He’s called me six times this week to ask about Steve’s medical history as if he doesn’t know it, and even went as far to buy vitamins. He has timers on his phone for when he needs to take each one. And, of course, now he won’t let Steve be in the bathroom with the door locked, and he can’t be in the shower with the door closed. Bucky actually had his first panic attack because he came home when Steve was showering and the door was locked.”

You cringed. All that mess and emotional tangles were your fault. “Oh.”

The conversation went on until visitation was over, and you were left alone again for four days. On the fourth, you woke up to a nurse knocking on the already open door, ready to check you out. She handed you a bag of clothes, saying your friends brought them, and that they were waiting for you down in the lobby. You quickly changed out of the stupid white t-shirt and gray sweatpants without a drawstring and pulled yourself into the leggings and one of Bucky’s sweatshirts they brought you. Your shoes were given back, so you slipped out of the slipper socks they made you wear, and once your Converse were laced up, you almost felt human again.

As soon as you stepped into the lobby, you could feel a huge amount of tension. Bucky hadn’t shaved in a few days and his eyes were red from a lack of sleep. Steve, on the other hand, looked a bit better. He was rested more and his hair wasn’t messy like Bucky’s and there was no sign of stress on his face. There was a little bit of space between them. There was no time for you to comment on it before Steve hugged you tight.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asked, looking at you hopefully. 

“I feel weird. It’ll take a while to adjust to the pills and to really see results, but other than that, I’m great.” And it was the truth. You gave them the full truth because you loved them, you trusted them, and you wanted them to trust you, too. 

He released you and Bucky made his way close to you. He held your arm softly, as if examining it--then he brought it to his lips to kiss it and pulled you close to his chest, pressing his face into your hair and finding the strength to say words. “I’m happy you’re okay. We both are.”

When Steve was released years ago, trust was hard to build up. His deteriorating mother was in hysterics, fretting over her boy until her downfall. Steve then stayed with his uncle Howard and aunt Maria, but the mourning process was all fucked up because of his healing process. Tony, Howard’s son, was often found sleeping outside Steve’s door, worried about any potential relapses or self-threats Steve could have. Howard watched him fearfully everytime they ate steaks for dinner, watching Steve cut the meat all throughout the meal. Everyone treated Steve like a ticking time bomb, one that could go off at any moment with a huge mess.

Maria loved the idea of having Steve around. Tony was often off with his father, working on electronics and experiments, whatever was on their minds that day, but Maria finally got to give her overwhelming love to someone else. She knitted with Steve, baked with him, and sometimes they would try their hands at mini gardens. But nothing would beat the time Maria took out of her day to take Steve to the florist, buy so many flowers that would make Steve sneeze and wheeze, and visit Sarah Roger’s grave.

For his eighteenth birthday, Tony founded the Sarah Roger’s Foundation, a charity that worked closely with women’s hospitals, assisting those in need of assistance and medical attention for any reason whatsoever. It was a huge surprise to Steve, but nonetheless, it was a birthday gift that could not have been topped.

Bucky’s eyes were watery, but he wore the biggest smile on his face. He looked as if sunshine had rained down on them, as if all his wishes had suddenly came true and he was so overwhelmed. His fingers reached for hers, gentle, and absolutely, hopelessly loving. “God, I’m so happy to see you.”

It was enough to make you smile and blink back your own tears. You were free! You no longer had to stare at while walls, share a room with a woman that wasn’t allowed to have bed sheets because she kept trying to hang herself, or eat horrible foods that had no effort put into it. Steve’s hand was warm on yours. Bucky’s was shaking, clammy and nervous, but everything in that moment was perfect. “And I’m happy that I get to cuddle you for the rest of our lives,” you said to them both.

“C’mon,” Steve said, rolling his eyes and pulling the two of you out the door. “You two can be sappy in the car.”

Your day was not very eventful. Once you were tucked away into their dorm room, you were drowned with kisses and cuddles, sandwiched in between warm bodies and repeatedly told how proud they were of you and how much they loved you.

Your favorite was to give Steve forehead kisses. He was skinny and small, short enough to allow his forehead to come to your nose. Hands cupped his face and you kissed his forehead, holding him close to you. He was lying on you as you would with Bucky, a pleasant weight to have--Bucky was on his side, facing you two, his arm over the small of Steve’s back.

Steve fell down to rest his head on your chest. It was natural; his body molding to yours, fabric and skin mixed into one, heartbeats thumping together. “I missed you so much. I’m glad you took that time for your mental health and I’m glad you’re back here to snuggle with me.”

“So selfish,” Bucky teased. “She’s snuggling both of us.” Bucky couldn’t contain himself. He pressed kisses along the side of your head and into your hair, breathing in the scent of you. You didn’t smell exactly as you did before. The sterile hospital smell lingered on you, in your hair and skin, and you no longer smelled like your shampoo or your favorite perfume. But you were you, and that was enough for him.

“I’m dropping out of college to snuggle you full time,” you joked. The words bounced off of the wall, almost echoing throughout the huge room. It was comfortable. “I’m going to be the trophy wife. I’ll iron your shirts and sit around all day waiting for you two to get home and order me some chinese food.”

“Sounds like you thought of a future,” Bucky noted. “Wife, eh?”

“I’d hyphenate. Mrs. Rogers-Barnes, and I’d be the laziest wife ever, and we’d have so many dogs. Tons of them. And we’ll live in a small one bedroom house because that’s all we’ll need.” You wrapped your arms loosely around Steve. “And Steve will say things like, ‘why the hell did you take $100 out of my bank account?’ so then I’ll tell him it was because I bought sexy lingerie and I’ll surprise you two in the living room, draped over a nice chair in a silk robe.”

Steve laughed. “Jesus, Y/N, why does every scenario you have end with a silk robe?”

“The silk robe will be a pale pink,” Bucky said, continuing where you left off. “It’ll sweep the floor as you walk, even in a pair of high heels, and you’ll look like a damn queen when we tear you apart.”

Groaning, Steve buried his face in your chest and ignored the insane conversation happening around him, causing a beautiful mix of laughter from yourself and Bucky. Fuck, it was great to be back.

The day faded away and turned to night, leaving the three of you groggy and ready for sleep. Bucky turned the thermostat down, making the room a comfortable temperature for all three of you dogpiling under a comforter. When he returned to bed, you backed him against the wall and curled up with your back to him, pulling Steve back to your chest. “You two better spoon the hell out of me tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky said in your ear, kissing your shoulder.

While Bucky was thankful you decided to sleep over that night, he was still on the edge. Everytime you shifted, he froze in fear, wondering if any of your cuts were stinging or being pressed against. One time, you got up to go to the bathroom and Bucky grabbed your wrist in fear.

“I’m just going pee, darling,” you whispered, careful not to wake Steve.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

But the worse came close to five AM, when Bucky woke up with a strangled shout caught in his throat. The image of you, dead, in a bathtub full of bloody water stayed in his mind. Your eyes were open, staring straight at him--

“James! I’m here, I’m here!” Your hands held his warm face. He looked so afraid in that moment, eyes meeting yours for a brief moment but pulling away.

“Is he okay?”

“I don’t know, but he--” You stopped, and Bucky realized it was because of his hand. It had found its way to your wrist, fingers pressing over the bandages desperately, to make sure they were still there, pressing to find a pulse. “James, are you worried about me?”

“I need some air,” he said suddenly, pushing himself out of bed and grabbing his jacket. You and Steve watched as he exited the room, frazzled and teary-eyed.

“I’m the worst person alive,” you moaned, leaning back into the pillows. “This is all my fault.”

“It was the same when I did it, so don’t worry,” Steve assured. “He’s just very over protective. We’ll all figure it out and we’ll be okay.”

You still weren’t convinced. “Jarvis said he was a pain in the ass all this week. He was hovering over you, and calling Jarvis, and I know that’s my fault.”

Steve reached to grab your hand. “He just doesn’t know how to take care of himself when it comes to that. And he wouldn’t talk about it at all. He freaked himself out when I was in the shower and he pounded against the door like a maniac. I just… I think he’s just upset he didn’t see the warning signs.”

“There were no warning signs.”

“There were,” Steve murmured, “and I should have caught them, too.”

You were quiet.

“This isn’t your fault,” he said again. “I just think he’s too afraid to properly handle what happened.”

When Bucky finally crawled back into bed, he peppered your face with teary kisses and mumbled how much you meant to him, smothering you in love until you fell asleep against him.

You had so much to do. The week ahead of you was going to be hell, with you catching up on last week’s work as well as doing the work for the current weak. It was nerve wracking, trying to spend time with the boys to make up for your mistake while doing everything else you could. Booking a library study room seemed like the best way to go. You could have your quiet space to get everything done, but the boys could sit with you.

You flipped through pages as Bucky looked up at you. “Hey, when was the last time you ate?”

“Um… before my nine AM, I think,” you answered.

“Babe, it’s almost four. Aren’t you starving?”

You looked up, confused. Eight hours had passed already? Since you ate? That didn’t sound right to you. “I, wait. No, I’m not really hungry. Maybe I forgot about a snack or something.” Bucky’s face scrunched, and you gave him your full attention for a moment. “I swear, I’m fine. I’m really not hungry. I’m just so busy trying to catch up that I really didn’t notice.”

He stood up and closed his laptop. “I’m making a cafe run. I’ll get you a bagel. You want cream cheese?”

“Always.”

After that, weeks flew by with worries flying in an out. You finished your work, you barely slept, and you’d taken the time to read up on the effects of celexa. Weight loss or weight gain. Great, just what you needed. You tossed the bottle into your desk drawer with a groan and rubbed your hands down your face.

“Everything okay?” Wanda asked from her bed.

“Peachy,” you mumbled. When she reached for her phone, you sighed. “Wait, okay, I’m sorry. I forgot, I’m kinda under watch now. I’m just pissed at the medication. It says weight issues are a side effect and I’m busy enough as it is, I can’t take extra time out to keep my body weight the same.”

“I’m sure you’ll be okay,” Wanda reassured. “Your body is great, and so what if you gain a few pounds? Just keep eating right and you’ll be fine.”

But you didn’t want to be fine. You wanted to be happy, to be healthy and mentally fucking stable. The urge to slice your skin ran through your body, but you had to be better than that. You smiled at Wanda and gathered your things. “I’m gonna go bother the boys. I’ll see you tonight for dinner?”

“Yeah. Dining hall at six.”

It took everything in you to keep yourself from running down the hall. Sometimes you hated that Steve and Bucky lived in the other residence hall. It was only a five minute walk, nothing too bad, but with the cold weather and the rain, it was aggravating. You made your way into the building, jogged to their door, and knocked so hard you thought your knuckles would bleed.

Bucky opened the door seconds later, but he wasn’t given time to respond, as you flung yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his waist and sucking in a deep breath. “I’m having a bad day,” you told him. Childish. You felt so fucking stupid, pushing this on to him and being vocal about how you felt. You buried your face in his collarbone and held on for dear life, not wanting to let go, not wanting to face him or your own confession.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair. “Let me help you. I think I know just what to do.”

The solution was cuddling, and suddenly, your day wasn’t so bad.


	2. Chapter 2

“So… I might have accidentally made us pretty cool spring break plans,” Steve said against your chest. You were laying on your back, clad in only a sports bra and Bucky’s boxers, Steve on his stomach on top of you in his briefs, with Bucky at his desk, cramming for the biology exam he had in an hour. It was the closest you three had gotten to normal. Steve and Bucky were getting along almost, well, normally, until Steve had picked up his exacto knife for an art project and Bucky began to hyperventilate.

Then they were kind of back on ice. You were trying to hold them together, and you could tell they were trying to be normal for you, too. Bucky still refused to talk about his nightmares; he slept only a few hours a night despite you being beside him or even having Wanda’s assurance that you were okay.

You showered the other day while Steve was at class only to have Bucky breaking down outside the door. He’d just come home from class to find the door lock. Of course you locked it, since you really didn’t want either of the boys to see your body that you grew so ashamed of. You turned off the water and rushed out in a towel, only for Bucky to grab you and pull your close. 

“Accidentally?” you asked. Your fingers were in his hair as you scrolled on your phone. “And what do you mean by pretty cool? That one time you took us to a snake exhibit and Bucky nearly shit himself.”

Steve propped his elbows on either side of you to rest his face in his hands, looking down at you. “Well, uncle Howard wants to take us to his island he has somewhere, I don’t know, but it’s sunny and private and full of great wifi, and he has a mansion up there. He’s even accommodated one of the suites to fit all of us.”

You met his eyes. “And?”

“I tried to weasel out of it, naturally. I told him we didn’t really have bathing suits or beach clothes, but he deposited two grand in my bank account for a shopping spree, so I guess we’re going.”

You laughed. “Only you would be mad about a beach vacation and getting two grand for new clothes.” You tapped his nose. “Plus, your uncle Howard is the best. He and your aunt Maria are chill with you dating two people at the same time.”

“Well, there was aunt Peggy,” Steve said. “I’m pretty sure they were doing...things.”

Bucky tore away from his textbook and turned to look over his shoulder. “Steve had the biggest crush on his aunt Peggy. He wanted to marry her.”

“Shut up!”

“He has a thing for British babes in red lipstick.”

“Don’t call my aunt a babe!” Steve groaned. “Bucky, seriously?”

“Should I wear red lipstick?” you teased. “I bet I could learn to do a British accent very easily.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” Steve whined, rolling off of you and the bed, standing to his feet and starting to look through his backpack. “I might as well start another painting. Stay in bed so I can do a few warm ups, would you?”

You rolled to your side, tugging the hem of the boxers nervously to make sure your scars were covered before smiling at Steve. He was already drawing, pencil marking lines on paper, brow furrowed and lips slightly parted in conversation.

“Why’d you try to get out of the vacation?” you asked suddenly, as soon as the thought came to you. “You like the beach, even though you get exhausted real quick from the heat.”

Steve didn’t look up at you as his pencil glided over the paper; his cheeks, however, were tinted pink at the comment. “I, um, wasn’t sure if you’d want to, and I didn’t want the three of us separated for spring break.”

“We had fun the last time we went to the beach,” you reminded. “Why wouldn’t I want to go?”

He bit his lip and the drawing slowed a bit. “I… I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable with showing your scars.”

Oh. Fuck. You didn’t respond right away which caused him to look up at you, finally, just for a glance. “But we can find a swimsuit that covers it,”

“Are you drawing me?” you asked in the best English accent you could. It was apparently very good. Steve snapped his pencil and Bucky nearly fell over as he howled with laughter. “Shame, darling, you’ll need to fetch another pencil.”

He groaned and tossed the broken tool to the floor. “You need to stop.”

“Or what?” you pressed while still speaking in the accent. “You’ll spank me?”

“Jesus!”

“I could wear red lipstick. Would that make it better?”

Steve was horribly turned on, trying to hide his problem with this sketch book, but you were having way too much fun. “What’s wrong, darling?” you asked innocently. “Am I upsetting you? Or are you a little too hard?”

“Shut your face,” he whined.

“How about you come fuck it?” you suggested.

Steve couldn’t sputter out a response. It was like a whole new world as he dropped the book and made his way towards you, fingers tangling in your hair and tugging back, baring your neck to him. You weren’t their girlfriend, but rather their girlfriend with scars and wounds. Steve sucked a small bruise into the side of your neck and you giggled.

“Really?” Bucky huffed. “I need to study.”

You both ignored him, Steve leaning down to trail kisses along your collarbone, and fuck you were getting turned on. His fingers made their way to your crotch, slipping through the hole of the boxers and under the panties. “You’re not that wet yet,” he mumbled. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’ll get me dripping, don’t worry,” you said loud enough for Bucky to hear. “Or maybe someone else could. I’d love to be eaten out right about now.”

The textbook was slammed shut as Bucky made his way to the bed, pulling Steve’s hand away and yanking down the boxers and panties you wore in one swift movement. Everything was bare; the cuts you’d made, all the angry red lines, everything was free and open for them to see. You didn’t know what to say.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked gently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

You spread your legs. “Make better use of that mouth.”

And that was it. It wasn’t talked about because it wasn’t important. You wanted to forget the marks you’d made. You wanted to pretend the depressed version of you had never existed. Bucky dipped between your thighs and ate you like a fucking queen, but your mind was racing, too worried about the cuts. You wanted this, to be normal, to let yourself go and relax in the presence of the two that loved you no matter what. 

“Stop.” Steve pushed Bucky’s shoulder until he sat up. “She’s… I don’t think she’s okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

“Because I’m ugly, but I didn’t want to forfeit the oral. I even shaved for this.” It was impressive that you had time to shave, especially since Bucky would have been itching for you to get out, and you would’ve had to leave the door open, which would have made things a little awkward.

“You’re not ugly,” Steve said sternly. “If you’re uncomfortable with us seeing them, then we can cover them up if you’d like. Do you want a blanket? Sheet?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes. “No, it’s… I’ve wasted so much time being miserable and throwing away my life and now you’re stuck with a girl that’s gaining weight and covered in self harm marks like a psychopath.”

“Gaining weight? Babe, you’ve been losing.” Bucky threw a blanket over your legs anyways, most likely for his own sake rather than yours. “You’re visibly thinner. And you’re not a psychopath. I don’t care that you’re covered in cuts. You survived and I love you no matter how you look.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve said again.

“But I shaved.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Bucky murmured. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and carefully dressed you, sliding the panties and boxers back up your legs until they were comfortable around your hips. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” he kissed your nose and stood from the bed. “I’m going to head to the science building for this test but I’ll be back afterwards, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Steve, keep an eye out for our girl,” he said, giving the other man a small kiss on the forehead before gathering up his things and making his way out of the room.

You rolled out of bed soon after, kicking off the boxers in frustration and pulling your jeans back on. “I’m so sick of being a basket case.”

“You’re not—“

“If he looks at me like I’m cracked glass one more time I’m gonna jump off a bridge!” you bellowed. 

Steve froze, hands shaking. Fuck. You stopped, jeans still unbuttoned, hands instantly grabbing Steve’s face. “I didn’t mean it like that,” you sighed. “I’m just… pissed. I’m so fucking tired of being so helpless.”

“It takes months to recover,” Steve told you as he began to pack up his art supplies and other class supplies. You appreciated the space he gave you. “You’re at an odd stage right now, and with the weight thing… have you weighed yourself recently?”

“I’m terrified of gaining weight. Stevie, what if I get so fat I can’t lay on you guys anymore? What if I get so fat that I can’t fit in bed?”

“You’re anxious. You’ll be fine, sweetheart. You’re not even gaining. And if you’re worried about it, then we can help you find healthy ways to maintain your weight, but I don’t care how big you get. That’s more of you to love and more of you to cuddle.” He made his way towards you and kissed the tip of your nose. “You remember what I was like. My aunt and uncle wouldn’t even let me be in a room by myself. He constantly had his butler Jarvis following me around. And then when he started needing Jarvis, he hired his wife to follow me around and keep me happy.”

“I’m trying so hard,” you whispered.

“The point is: you’re going to feel like shit for another week or so. Things will start to level out and you’ll be happy you did this,” Steve said as he pulled back to push down your pants. “You’re on the right track, and I’m so fucking proud of you. Why don’t you stay here? Bucky has an hour before he comes back, you should relax and take a bath. You still have some bubble bath in there, I think there was a bathbomb in there if you wanna use that.”

“I should be okay,” you told him, convincing yourself or at least trying to. “I should probably get some studying done.”

“Take a break,” he pleaded. “Appreciate the alone time. Okay? And you text me if anything goes wrong?”

Your stress was intense--as soon as Steve left, you dug out the bubble bath and ran the water. It was peaceful; you sunk into the warm, frothy water and allowed yourself to be covered up just a little past your breasts, not wanting your scars to be exposed just in case one of the boys came back, but wanting to have to hide everything. Thoughts took over, idly, and soon enough you found yourself dozing off to sleep.

Bucky found you like that, an hour later--your hair was still pulled up but beginning to fall out of its bun and skim the milky water, most of the bubbles gone, and leaving you exposed. While he was thankful you left the door open, he was still shattered at the sight of you. Nothing could ease his mind. He hadn’t even taken his shoes off yet. Slowly, gently, and with tears in his eyes, he knelt beside the tub and touched your cheek to wake you up. He couldn’t help the tears that had escaped his eyes, but he especially couldn’t help the whimpers he let slip. When you came to with a gentle stir, it broke your heart--he hovered over you, holding your face in his pale hands and waiting to make sure you were absolutely okay. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, but made no effort to pull away.

You let your wet and wrinkled hand come up from the water and wrap around his arm. It was warm to the touch, almost burning on comparison to the now-cold water. “I’m sorry I worry you,” you apologized. And you meant it, too. It was heartbreaking to see Bucky like this. You brought your other hand up to capture his other arm, like restrains, as if to make him your prisoner. There were no complaints on his end. 

“I should have noticed something was up,” he murmured. “If I would have realized, you would have never ended up in the hospital, you would have never been hurt--we could have got you better help than that fucking prison, and I’m so sorry we made you go there. I didn’t know where else to send you, we couldn’t afford a better home or personalized care, and I--”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “It’s not your job to do all of those things and be responsible for me.”

But Bucky wasn’t so sure. “I know you better than I know myself, but I couldn’t even see how much you were suffering.”

“I’ll tell you everything,” you said, shivering at the sudden chill. “I know you blame yourself and we’re all on thin ice right now, but I’ll tell you everything. Any question you have, I’ll answer it.”

He nodded, but the tears kept coming. The silence set on only to be interrupted by your trembles. “Let’s get you out of the tub, sweetheart,” he murmured, lifting you up and pulling the drain. His towel was pulled off the rack and quickly wrapped around you. For the first time in weeks, you realized how real it was. The cutting, the wound, the near loss--you almost died. You almost left them for good, without a goodbye, without one last kiss or even an explanation. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned into his chest and choked on a sob. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

Without a regard for staying dry, he picked you up effortlessly and made his way out to the bedroom. You clung to him for dear life. The room turned to blurs and smudges around you--it felt as if nothing was real, like you were alone in the dark. Had you actually died? You sobbed and called out for Bucky but you felt numb, lost in the smudged world you were throw into.

“I’m here, baby doll, I’m right here, I promise.”

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed. You were set on a soft surface--his bed--and soft thumbs wiped at your cheeks.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I almost left without saying goodbye,” you moaned. “I almost died, Bucky, I nearly died.”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “I got you. You’re here, you’re alive, okay? We got you, darling.”

“I felt like nothing,” you said through shuttered breaths. “I-I felt so numb, even sitting beside you. Both of you are perfect, and I feel unworthy. I feel dirty. Not even Steve cut himself, and now I have all these ugly fucking marks all over me and you guys can see them. I’m so ashamed, Bucky. I’m nothing but a big bundle of shame. I can’t—I can’t deal with it. I hate it. I hate the way—“

“Breathe.”

You suck in a shaky breath, let it out, and lean further into his chest. “I’m never going to be able to surprise you in lingerie. I’m not good enough for that, I don’t have that perfect body. Come to think of it, I never did. My cutting got too out of control and I knew you’d notice it then—“

“Were you cutting for long?”

You nodded. “You never saw them,” you murmured. “I made sure of it. They were so tiny, so little. You and Steve never looked at me for long, but once I started getting deeper….”

Bucky couldn’t believe he’d missed all the signs. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked desperately. “I know why. Realistically, I do. But I want to hear it from you in every little detail.”

“I couldn’t risk you dumping me. That’s all I could think of when I woke up on suicide watch. You were so mad that I thought you would leave me right then and there.”

“I’d never.”

Vision slowly came back in an unblurred manner, creeping in while you head rested against Bucky’s chest. He stroked your back as you soaked the bed with your wet body and now-wet towel. Even out of the tub, you began to shiver. “Can I wear one of your sweatshirts?” you asked softly.

There was an absence of heat as he pulled away, not helping your cold feeling. You hugged yourself in the towel the best you could. You pulled it over you with his help. “Atta girl,” he praised under his breath. He grabbed you a pair of panties and a pair of leggings, rubbing your legs dry before sliding both up and lifting you ever so slightly to pull them into place. “There you go. My perfect girl. You’re wonderful, you know that?”

You smiled at gave a breathy chuckle.

Bucky peppered kisses all over your head and forehead, wrapping his arms around you to keep you against him. “You’re my ray of sunshine. You’re one of the brightest things in my life, you and Steve mean the world to me, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I don’t want to spend my life with any other girl. You, just you.”

Bucky cupped your face again and kissed you.

“I feel like I’m putting your lives on hold,” you said finally. “Like we can’t be spontaneous anymore. No more surprise sex because I’m covered in ugly scars and—“

“We don’t always need to have sex,” he said firmly. “Just having you here with me is enough. Just touching you is plenty.”

You leaned back to rest against his pillows and held up your arm. “Please lay with me.”

He climbed into bed and you both let yourselves fall asleep against each other.

Bucky passed his text with a 97% and Steve was pulling you three out to stores to shop for spring break outfits. It was overwhelming to have two grand for clothes but not as overwhelming as it was to pretend to be just friends in public.

Howard and Maria were lovely people. They didn’t care about the relationship, but it was still weird to be comfortable around them. You didn’t reach for their hands when you were around the Starks, you didn’t kiss their cheeks or treat them like boyfriends. You’d made that mistake with your mom and that got you a very upsetting and harsh kick-out.

“I hate summer clothes,” Bucky grumbled, waddling out of the fitting room with his hands clenched into fists. “I hate how my legs look in shorts. I’m a jeans-all-year-round kinda guy.”

“It’s going to be ninety degrees and very humid,” Steve reminded, stepping out behind him to model the shorts he had on. They were a khaki color, a little shorter than Bucky’s normal length shorts, which showed off Steve’s legs. He had nice, athletic legs somehow, miraculously, and that was enough for you. “And uncle Howard told us to get good stuff. We can’t go there empty handed.”

“You’re killing my vibes,” Bucky whined. “Dude. Can’t I just get a swimsuit and call it a day?”

Steve rolled his eyes and tugged on Bucky’s shirt. “You need new clothes, anyways. You look like a bum, and Y/N’s running out of shirts to steal from you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Bucky looked like he wanted to pin Steve up against a wall and kiss him. That was where you jumped in, standing up to pull Bucky back into the fitting room. “C’mon,” you said. “I’m sure you have something good in here.”

Steve turned back to go into his own room, shutting the door and getting undressed for the next outfit. “Is it true, doll?” Bucky murmured. “Think I gotta get more shirts for you to steal?”

“Another sweatshirt would be nice,” you answered quietly, “but that’s not summer attire. I wouldn’t mind you being shirtless all throughout this trip, though. That would be great.”

He laughed, pulling you in closer. “Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well,” he sighed, “I have the same wish. You shirtless would be great, too.”

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Steve scoffed from within his fitting room. “Dude. We’re in public. Get a fucking room.”

“With pleasure,” Bucky growled before pushing you inside and following, closing the door after him. Before you could protest or make a noise to give you two away, Bucky pulled his shirt over his head and kissed you, backing you against the wall.

“Bucky,” Steve hissed from the next room over. “Dude! Cut it out.”

You weren’t going to stop him, though. Your lips worked overtime to kiss him back and tug at the waistband of his pants. “Not too far,” he murmured. “We’re in public, baby.”

“You started it,” you shot back. “Let me get you off.”

“No.”

“You don’t want me?”

“That’s not fair,” he mumbled into the side of your neck. “You know I do. But Steve isn’t with us and I’m not going to bust a nut in public.”

You pulled away from him and, while keeping eye contact with him, tugged your shirt over your head. “I don’t know what to try on.”

“Well, these are all my clothes,” Bucky teased. “You won’t fit in them. And I know what you’re trying to do.”

Innocently, you grabbed Bucky’s shirt from the floor and pulled it over your own head. “Hmm, perfect. I’ll go show Steve.” And you slipped out before he could stop you, leaving him without a shirt.” Steve didn’t have the door opened for you to come in. When you knocked, there was no answer. You couldn’t hear him, either, and it made you panic. 

 

“I knew you wouldn’t find things for yourself,” Steve said, jerking you from your worries as he walked towards you. “So I went and found cte outfits for you.” Steve went crazy picking out things in your size; he’d thrown shorts and cute crop tops into a basket as well as different bathing suits. “Here, sweetheart.” He held out the basket for you to take, and you accepted it.

“I guess I should--”

“You can have my fitting room,” Bucky said as he opened the door. “I’ll stand out here with Steve.”

Well, there was no getting out of this one. Even as your body inched into the dressing room and closed the door behind you, it felt so weird. Your body wasn’t what it used to be, and that terrified you. Maybe you gained weight. Undressing proved to be stressful enough--the mirror was being a dick and tears pricked your waterline. Stop being stupid, you told yourself, ignoring the mirror and pulling out different pieces of clothing. 

Everything was too big. You were swimming in some clothes, and other shorts wouldn’t stay up. Maybe the boys knew your weight gain and tried to go bigger. Too big. You looked at your body in the mirror, giving into its temptations, and tried not to cry.

“Let us see!” Bucky called from outside.

“I need a new size.”

“Did Steve grab the wrong one?”

You fought back the tears. “I don’t know. Everything’s too big.”

It took Steve only three minutes to gather everything in a smaller size. He and Bucky shared a look after trading the clothes with you--you were so embarrassed, knowing damn well they were going to pull you out for lunch after all the clothes were bought, and wondering how horribly that would throw you off again. How could you’ve let yourself deteriorate this far? You pulled your shirt off and stared at yourself in the mirror. How could they even stand to be with you anymore? Steve was never this helpless, never this far gone. You pulled the floral swimsuit that Steve loved so much on and nearly started crying. It fit you so nicely but you were covered in scars that any cuteness achieved from it was gone.

“Y/N, c’mon, we want to see how great you look!”

You stepped out of the fitting room to let the boys see you, letting your soul and skin bare to them and anyone else that could see. The fitting room, your safe little circle, was abandoned in the name of fashion. You looked at your boyfriends and waited.

“You look stunning,” Steve gasped, making his way towards you. “If we weren’t in public, I’d have to do things to you in that.”

Bucky elbowed him. “Jeez, Steve, you’re a little late on that one, ain’t he, baby?” He looked at you with a smile. “How ya feeling? Do you like it, or would you like something else?”

You looked down at your angry, red thighs and tried to hold back any hatred you felt. “I think it’s pretty. I’m just not sure Steve’s aunt and uncle want to see this for a whole week.”

“They already know what happened,” Steve told you. “They’re just glad you’re okay. If you’re uncomfortable with it, we’ll find you something else.”

They looked at you so lovingly you could have melted. Steve thought you looked hot in that swimsuit. The fact that he was still turned on by you despite the scars boosted your confidence to an extreme. Were you this ballsy? Were you actually going to let yourself be loved despite your mistakes and visible flaws?

“Y/N?” Bucky asked softly. “You okay?”

“I like it,” you said suddenly. “Are you sure they won’t mind? I really like it.”

Steve grinned. “They’ll think you’re beautiful, just like we do. And plus, uncle Howard will be happy you’re spending his money.”

Bucky watched you, trying to keep a happy face on, to reassure you. In an attempt to reassure him, you smiled brightly. “What do you think, Buck?”

He swallowed thickly, trying not to cry. “You’re beautiful,” he said honestly. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

It was enough to make you try on everything else without crying at how pathetic you were.


	3. Chapter 3

“Please, allow me,” said Mr. Jarvis, taking the handle of your suitcase as it was pulled from the jet.

You scrambled to take it back from him, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. “No, no, no, no, hey! Sir, Steve said you were on vacation!”

Jarvis straightened himself up and gawked at you. “Yes, but it is still my duty—”

You shook your head. “No, you’re on vacation. Go spend time with Anna.”

“Anna’s coming along to see Mr. Rogers. We’re still here with smaller tasks, Miss Y/L/N.”

You sighed. “Dude, c’mon. You’re always in work mode. What if I order you to relax? Does that count?”

“Hey,” Howard yelled from the balcony of the beach mansion. “Stop bullying my butler and get in here so I can hug the three of ya!”

“Tell your butler to stop working all the time!” you yelled back. “I can’t bully him if he’s off the clock!”

Maria laughed, sitting beside her husband, but Jarvis used that as an excuse to take your suitcase and make his way towards the house before you could pull the suitcase out of his grasp.

“Holy shit, it’s so warm here,” Steve whined. He immediately tore off his jacket. “I’m going to sweat to death. This is gross, I should be back in New York freezing my ass off.”

You rolled your eyes at him, following him and Bucky up the stairs of the huge mansion. It was huge with grand balconies and bay windows, which you were a sucker for. Howard pulled Steve in for a hug and then attacked you and Bucky for a hug.

“There we are! Glad you three could make it,” Howard said with a proud smile. “There’s a whole lot of beach to have fun with. Are there any dietary needs I should know about? I can never remember, I swear, it almost makes me feel bad. Nobody’s lactose intolerant, are they? Because I just bought an ice cream machine and I’m going to be using that baby until I have what Maria calls the dad-bod.”

Steve groaned. “You’re embarrassing, uncle Howard.”

“The man has his own island,” Bucky reasoned, “he can be as embarrassing as he wants.”

“This kid knows what’s up.” Howard set down his drink and turned towards the house. “C’mon, I’ll give ya a tour.”

The place was breathtaking. It was torn between a beach and a modern theme, but it pieced together perfectly. The hardwood floors were spotless and didn’t creak beneath your feet. The staircase was grand with a carved railing and banister, leaving you lightheaded and in complete awe. Natural light swarmed in and draped over the furniture and other knick knacks kept around.

The suite he had rearranged for you three was like your own personal palace. The aesthetic was charming and rather minimalist, but god, you could have died there. The bed was huge, like it consisted of two queen beds shoved together, with white and dull blue bedding neatly arranged over it.

“There’s AC in here, and the thermostat is over there,” Howard instructed with a gesture. “You are free to open the windows, of course, but please keep Steve’s asthma in mind.”

“Of course,” you and Bucky replied simultaneously.

“The bathroom is right in here…”

Holy shit. The ensuite was just as big as the room, with a triple-sink vanity, a walk in shower, and a huge ass bathtub that left dirty thoughts in your mind. It was stocked with fresh towels and toiletries--high end ones, at that--and other items such as hair dryers, brushes, combs, and even robes hung on the door.

“I hope it’s to your liking,” Howard said in conclusion.

You laughed, you had to, not believing what he’d said. “You’re kidding, right? This is amazing, it’s beautiful. The floors alone are mesmerizing. Holy shit. Wait, I’m sorry, I--”

Howard clapped you on the back. “Relax. You’re fine, Y/N. I’ve heard Steven here say worse. That kid has the mouth of a sailor.”

After a few more laughs, Howard dismissed himself and left the three of you to settle in. Steve immediately stripped with a groan. “It’s so damn hot here,” he whined. “Why couldn’t he own Antarctica?”

Greed took over. You didn’t know why or how, but all you saw was need and lust and a half naked boyfriend. Off came your shirt, and you pressed yourself against him, kissing him with such force you both toppled back on to the bed.

He pulled back to look at you, pushing your hair out of your face with his fingers. “I’m no longer complaining,” Steve murmured.

Bucky snuck up behind you and yanked your leggings down, letting them bunch around your knees. The elastic band snapped at your skin. “Is this how we’re going to play this?” he asked, voice lost between a sigh and a chuckle. “His uncle walks out and two seconds later you’re tackling him with your lust?”

You brushed your ass against his crotch as part of your answer. “First of all, I’m horny as hell so yes, this is exactly how we’re going to play this. Second, I’m tired of fucking on twin sized beds.” Without another warning, you tore open Steve’s pants and started stroking his cock, feeling him come alive in your palm. You watched as he threw his head back in complete bliss. “You like that, baby? You like when I touch you, huh? I bet you’d like it even more if I suck you off. Maybe I’ll make Bucky watch… maybe I’ll lie back and let you fuck my face.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Stop talking like that. You’re going to get me so excited I die.” He was hard already, itching to be touched. You licked the tip before spitting down his shaft and taking him into your fist.

Bucky wasted no time pulling your panties down and kicking them off with your leggings. “Spread your legs.”

“I’m busy.”

“Spread your legs.”

“I’m in the middle—“

Before you could finish, Bucky had you on your back and pinned to the bed, arms held captive above your head as he forced your legs apart, nails digging into the soft skin behind your thigh. “And I said to spread your fucking legs.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. Steve looked over at you. Bucky pulled away with a worried expression. “I’m sorry. That was… I’m sorry.”

“That was so fucking hot,” you squeaked.

“Really?”

Steve slumped back against the mattress with another groan. “I almost came from that. Bossy Bucky is so fucking hot.”

“I want to watch you two,” you said, moving back to sit on the one side of the bed. “I want Bossy Bucky to show Steve a good time.”

“What about you?” Steve asked. It was sweet that he was concerned, but you noticed how his legs fell open at your request.

“You guys will get me off soon enough.”

“Did we pack lube?”

“Did your uncle stock up?” Bucky asked jokingly, reaching over to the nightstand and opening the drawer. Of course, inside was a full bottle of lube, some condoms, and a note saying “Be safe! -HS”

You laughed so hard your body shook. “No fucking way! Oh my God, that’s insane.”

Bucky said nothing else about the matter. The drawer remained open as Bucky took Steve into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down and hollowing his cheeks to draw dirty sounds from his throat. You let your hand fall to your dripping pussy, fingers teasing your lips and hole, finally brushing over the clit lighter than a feather, before letting out a sigh.

“Don’t make a sound,” Bucky ordered Steve, cupping his balls. “You make one fucking sound, and you won’t come. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes...?”

“Yes, sir.”

You nearly moaned at the sound of that dirty little name. Bucky let himself take in Steve’s cock again before grabbing the lube and slicking up his fingers.

“Do I have your consent?”

“Mhmm.”

“Words.”

“Yes, Bucky. Please.”

Steve sprawled out in his back with his legs open, knees in the air and his feet against the mattress was a sight to see. His mouth fell open, pink lips parted in a soft O that made you want to slip your fingers right into your pussy. Patience was the key, though. You continued teasing while you watched Bucky slip a finger into Steve’s ass.

“Fuck,” he mewled.

“What did I say?” Bucky growled. “I’ll pull out right now if this is how it’s gonna be.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered, left leg failing to stay up. It fell off the side of the bed with a soft sift of the fabric. Steve but his lip to keep quiet, nearly failing as Bucky stretched him out a bit, working slowly to prep him.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” Bucky asked you in a low voice. He watched hungrily as your hand tickled in small circles around your clit, legs involuntarily twitching. “God, look at you. I can’t wait to eat you out.”

Steve arched his back as another finger was pressed into him. He tried so hard to keep quiet; his mouth fell open and a quiet breath came out, quick and raspy, his hands balling in the bed sheets.

You watched helplessly as Bucky prepped Steve, dirty words and encouragements spewing freely from his lips. There was something mouthwatering about watching Bucky take charge like that. His fingers pushed into Steve so effortlessly, forceful yet so alert and mindful of his boundaries--Steve let his head fall back and whimper once he took all four of Bucky’s fingers inside him.

“Are you ready?” Bucky murmured. “You ready for this cock?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve answered.

Bucky coated his dick with lube and smeared a little around Steve’s entrance. There was no warning. He pushed himself in with an exhale and let Steve adjust before moving. You watched hungrily. There was no way you’d last long enough, not when they were acting like that. Steve’s hair clung to his forehead, bouncing very slightly with every thrust. Sliding up his body, Bucky’s hands moved like silk. They stopped at his boyfriend’s hips. Your eyes were watering with jealousy--Bucky was pounding into him, skin slapping skin, wet sounds and moans filling the air and leaving you feeling dirty. Things hadn’t been that intimate since your hospitalization, but fuck, you were ready. You were excited for this.

Steve came with a strangled shout, back arched off of the mattress, fists pulling the down comforter and twisting uncontrollably. His lips were circled into a perfect O; you kicked your feet a bit but he paid no attention to you as he rode out his orgasm. Steve shot white streaks across his on chest but Bucky didn’t stop thrusting. The blond must had been sensitive because of that, he had to have been. The moans escaping with whimpers let Bucky know how sore the smaller man was getting to be. “I’m so close,” Bucky panted, not stopping. “Stevie, baby, fuck, I’m so close.”

“Fuck my mouth,” you found yourself saying before you could think. “Buck, use me.”

Steve moaned as Bucky pulled out. They were left on the bed while Bucky went to the bathroom, washing his dick off before making his way back to the bed. It creaked under his weight. He left you tied him, kneeling before you to slide his cock into your mouth. You had no time to adjust to the warmth hitting the back of your throat. He fucked your mouth with such force you felt helpless again, useable, and god, you loved it. You loved that they weren’t treating you like a fragile, breakable person. No, you were sturdy, worthy of deepthroating and rough face-fucking, which was no problem by you. Steve crawled up the bed, between Bucky’s legs, to eat you out.

In a matter of moments, Bucky finished in your mouth and you finally gagged--he pulled out but you were desperate for air unable to swallow. You looked up at him as spit and cum dripped from your lips, your shoulders shaking and chest heaving. 

“Are you gonna come, pretty girl?” he asked you in a low voice, still breathless from his orgasm. “You gonna be good and come for me and Stevie? He’s doing such a great job, isn’t he?”

He pulled you into a rough kiss, spit and cum rolling on your tongues and a small cry muffling between the kiss as Steve teased your clit. One hand tangled in Bucky’s hair, the other in Steve’s; kissing continued as Steve treated you right, tongue warm and heavy on your pussy. You needed this so fucking bad. Everything built up inside of you, pooling under your stomach and growing until your legs were too weak to stay still. Steve’s hands held them down. As he worked your clit Bucky, still kissing you, reached down to slide his fingers inside of you.

You came with a scream, head falling back and away from Bucky’s lips. The cleanup was quick, but those orgasms were the best you three had ever had, at least with each other. You all dressed in your swimsuits, made your way downstairs, and only felt a tiny twinge of shame when Howard said, “I see the nightstand drawer proved to be useful. I probably should have soundproofed the walls.”

///

Things were going well until the fourth day. You woke up with a sinking feeling in your chest, one that bubbled and took over your nerves. The sun shining wasn’t enough to warm you up, to wake up the happiness that you swore hid in your body somewhere. After all this time, after the comfort of waking up next to your boyfriends on a private island, you should have been happy. You were taking medications and breathing and talking about your feeling but you were still trapped.

Your stomach lurched and you tore yourself out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. Bile forced its way up your throat--you fell before the toilet, throwing open the seat to empty what was left in your stomach, mostly nothing, and your throat stung like hell. Vomiting in the morning wasn’t fun, but stress vomiting was far worse. With your chest heaving and shoulders shaking, you hovered above the toilet in misery, wondering what you’d done to deserve such unhappiness.

Were you a horrible person? Did you unknowingly commit a crime or hurt someone? The inside of your mind was sad and gray, and you would have given anything to feel normal, to feel alive and well. 

“You alright?” Bucky asked softly, making his way over to you, fingers lightly resting against your shoulder. “Would you like me to grab something for you?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Are you--”

“No!” You pushed him away as a sob ripped from your throat. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

“You’ve seen me in much worse,” Bucky reminded. “I’m here to help you. Just tell me what you need, don’t shut me out.”

You turned to stare at him. “What I need? Your really wanna know what I need? I need my brain to make some decent fucking chemicals, that’s what.”

“Hey…”

You flushed the toilet and shakily stood up, trembling and shuttering and crying as you reached for your toothbrush. “I’m tired of feeling low. I’m tired of forcing myself to be happy, because faking it until I make it is the only thing working, just to get in over my head and feeling like shit. These pills aren’t helping!”

“You can talk to a doctor,” he told you. “You can change medications or up your dosage. Steve said this was gonna be hard. There’s so many options we can still explore, please don’t let your brain defeat you. Let us help you.”

“I’m tired of gaining weight.”

“You’re not--dammit, Y/N, get on the scale.”

“No!”

“Get on the fucking scale.”

“Can I brush my goddamn teeth first?”

He picked you up and walked you over to the scale. You couldn’t protest much with your toothbrush in your mouth, foaming at the mouth from the paste. Your feet touched the cold, glass scale, and you two waited for the numbers to pop up on the screen. Before disappointment set in, you caught the result: you’d lost twenty pounds.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“You’re not eating,” Bucky sighed. He ran his hand through his bedhead and let out a breath in an attempt to calm down. “You’re so stressed and I know you’re trying, and I know it’s hard, but you really need to let us help you. I feel like every night we go to bed, we’re counting down the days until you end up in the hospital again.”

“You should have let me die,” you said before you could stop yourself. You jerked back instantly, as if you’d been touched by fire. God, why were you such a fucking dumbass? On autopilot, you headed back to the sink, finished cleaning your mouth, and placed everything back in its place.

Bucky hadn’t moved. When you finished and turned, you found him froze against the wall. “Do… do you really think that?”

“I think you and Steve would be better off without me,” you admitted. The room’s slight echo and sterile white made your heart ache. “Sometimes I wake up and think I should try again. You’re so good with Steve. You two are so soft and sweet with each other, and I don’t think I could ever come between that. Sometimes I think I’m fucking it all up and I’m ruining your love. I’m just a waste, a miserable waste and I’m so sorry I pulled you in like this.”

“You’re insane if you don’t think that we love you,” he snapped. “You’re fucking insane. Steve and I love you. We’d do anything for you, you’re everything to us.”

“I just threw up because I was so stressed,” you shot back at him. “I wake up sometimes and cry. I’m covered in scars, and you think nothing of it? You think I’m still worth loving?”

“I’ll love you until I die!” he closed the huge gap between you two, pulling you close against him and letting you cry. “You’re mine. You hear? Mine and Steve’s. I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I don’t care if you wake up one morning and decide to set me on fire.” He pulled back and held you by the shoulders, forcing you to look into his teary blue eyes. “I love you, Y/N. And I’ll kelp you get better even if it kills me.”

All you could do was nod. He pulled you back against him and you closed your eyes tight. You were so fucking scared of the future. You were up and down, hot and cold, everywhere and nowhere all because this was all so new. But you would be fine, maybe--hopefully--as long as you had Steve and Bucky by your side.

“Let’s go back to bed, baby,” he whispered into your hair. “This can be our lazy day. I’ll ask Jarvis if he can make some elephant ears later. He makes the best.”

You nodded again, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pick you up to take you back to bed. Steve was waiting for the two of you. He welcomed the two of you with kisses and sprawled out over top of you both. Maybe you could live like this. Maybe the dark could be defeated with enough sunshine from your boys.


End file.
